


Three minutes to midnight

by Trash



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Existential Angst, M/M, fluff I suppose, not exactly a happy fic but not sad?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 02:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: Kyle is nervous.





	Three minutes to midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Set the night before the first single release from album three. Title from the doomsday clock.

Kyle sits on the wall outside the flat smoking and staring at the sky. One more sleep. And he supposes he should be excited, be used to it by this point, but the idea of putting something out there for people to tear apart like lions never loses its edge. 

He knows deep down that what they’ve made is great. He’s proud of it, they all are. But still. Still. There’s the great unknown. He feels like he’s teetering on the edge of an abyss, and there’s people down there with their hands outstretched waiting waiting waiting for something brilliant. And brilliant is subjective, isn’t it? People will still say it’s shit, say they preferred the early stuff. Which, incidentally, Kyle had nothing to do with. 

An old voice in his head surfaces. It starts as a whisper but is soon crescendoing, booming over and over _you're not good enough_. 

He jumps when the front door slams, spins round to see Dan’s apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he says, “wind sucked it closed.”

Kyle nods and turns back to the street. A car goes past slowly, music playing loud enough to be heard even with the windows closed. He finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the wall, flicking it toward the drain and missing. “Fuck.”

Dan sits down beside him, brushes their arms together. “You’re cold.”

“Mmm. Looks like it’s going to rain.”

“Come in, then. You’ll melt.”

“Just. Five more minutes,” Kyle says. 

Out the corner of his eye he can see Dan studying him. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Kyle laughs. “Just worrying,” he says, “spend too much time with you.”

“Definitely. Worrying about tomorrow?”

“What if people hate it?”

“People will hate it, Kyle. That’s just...life.”

“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah. That’s. Not helpful, if I’m honest.”

Dan shrugs. “Sorry. Not sure what I can say, really. I’m bricking it too - but it’s...done now. It’s done and what will be will be.”

“Again, not helpful.”

“Want to get stoned and watch Twin Peaks with me?”

Kyle smiles. Dan is nothing if not predictable. “Sure,” he says. 

“Good.” Dan gets up and dusts off his pants, holding out his hand for Kyle to take. 

Kyle takes it, warm against his own cold skin. “Thanks,” he says, not sure what he’s saying thank you for, and lets Dan tow him inside.


End file.
